


The Chosen One

by Kylie1206



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22294045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylie1206/pseuds/Kylie1206
Summary: Welcome to a Storybrooke that isn't what it seems on the surface. With a Vampire aged over 300 years old making it his home, and a Slayer coming in to his world, how will the two of them survive in a world where unlikely alliances need to be formed to protect them, and the world, from an even bigger threat?
Relationships: Belle & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Where it all began...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome! This is a fic adapted from a roleplay I'm part of in which Rumplestiltskin is a Vampire and Belle is a Slayer. Please please please do provide me with feedback, positive and constructive! I love these two as a ship anyway, but I really do love this little world that I'm trying to build. With aspects of lore taken from Buffy The Vampire Slayer and my own imagination, I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> Later on in the story there will be more revealings of Supernatural characters and goings on, but we don't need to rush to that just yet, right? Right.The rating may also change at some point but for now I think we're at the right one. Thank you for reading!

Storybrooke, Maine was meant to be a quiet enough little town so when Rumplestiltskin had settled there 15 years before he’d done so with the intention of a peaceful life living under the radar. A little bit of a challenge when he purchased a Salmon coloured home to live in but there was a part of him that still enjoyed the flash and the pomp of things. Still, despite certain supernatural aspects of the town it had proven to be peaceful enough. He kept to himself aside from two associates - friends, even - by the name of Dove (a demon who could turn into a bird but often chose to turn in to a Dove) and a Warlock by the name of Jefferson who was rather eccentric and, after an incident with magic some years before, was left struggling to do much other than turn on a kettle with his mind. Still, he was gifted and a valuable ally to have by his side. On his good days, that was. On his bad, he was more of a responsibility to Rumple than a friend, yet one he still maintained.

He was a man of magic himself but that was just a hobby. Not even one he could do as much as he liked. A lot of darker magic ironically needed to draw from a life force in order to be cast. A challenge when you lived without a beating heart in your chest, and the question of whether you had a soul or not was debatable at best. Light magic itself took a lot from him, sapping him of energy and was near impossible sometimes. Basics were easy, larger spells beyond him. One day he hoped they wouldn’t be though.

  
You see, Rumplestiltskin was a man of the night. A beast. A demon. A vampire. He slept by day and lived by night, but as he’d grown older (he was over 300 years old by now) he’d learned in the last hundred years that it was a safer life to be less obvious about himself and to try to resist leaving trace of himself, or rather, of what he was. So he didn’t feed from a human, instead making deals through the years - he was a master of deals - or using magic to manage a constant supply of blood flowing his way. Open his refrigerator and you wouldn’t see much by way of ‘human’ food. He still ate sometimes, he did enjoy it and it did help sate cravings and hunger. But you’d see blood bags and raw meats, meats he’d suckle the blood from to almost feel like he was taking it direct from the source, just like instinct told him to. It

Instinct with him did mean that he had a constant darkness within. A desire to hunt and kill that barely bubbled over the surface some nights, such as this. He’d been aware of various changes in the town, thanks to Dove keeping track and feeding back to him. It appeared that they had a few issues in town, and though there were things he suspected, he knew that one issue was a growing number of vampires themselves. He of course didn’t begrudge their existence - why would he when he was one himself? - but he didn’ like that they made his own something more dangerous. If they were out there killing or biting humans then they were making their presence known. Which meant people become vigilantes and hunted, which put his own existence at risk. He liked Storybrooke enough to wish to remain settled and he didn’t want to move on yet again just yet, and so he took it upon himself to rid the town of this threat. Not for them, no. So long as humans weren’t hunting him he didn’t care for them, he had no reason to. It was hardly like humans had been kind to him, even in his life before becoming what he was. Simply put, he had to hunt other Vampires for his own safety.

There was a part of him that did enjoy it though. Killing of any kind fed the demon within. It satisfied his need enough to make sure that he didn’t stray from the path he’d set for himself and take the life of a human. Killing a Vampire was just as satisfying and just as dark.

That need to hunt took him out that evening, stake in hand, stalking through the night with a cloak of darkness around him. He could smell the stench of death and unsurprisingly it led him to the town graveyard. The stench that filled the air meant that it was likely newborns were about to rise and so he had to hunt them down. Newborns were pains and nothing more. They were too emotional, too instinctive and too reckless. They were the ones most likely to make their existence too obvious, so they were the ones most likely to cause him problems.

Rounding a large headstone, Rumplestiltskin heard noises from a distance, an unmistakable sound; a fight, and he suspected that it was a fight he very much needed to be involved in. It had to be vampires and that meant some silly little human, probably thinking they were ‘dangerous’ or ‘cool’ walking through a graveyard in the dead of night, was about to become fast food. Not on his watch. So he raced towards the noise, intentions clear; kill the other vamps and get home in time to watch a fascinating documentary on Animal Planet before sunrise. He had his priorities, of course.

Whilst he was a man of Darkness and magic, the human in the midst of the fight was more similar to him than he could have begun to imagine. Aged only 25, Belle French lived a life unlike that of any of her peers. Most 25 year olds were settling day, working stable jobs and contemplating the future. Would they have a family? Get married? However, those were thoughts Belle couldn’t allow herself to entertain. If she did then she knew she would only be setting herself up for disappointment. After all, how could you possibly consider settling down when ever since your teenage years you’d been burdened with the safety of the world on your shoulders? Belle French was no ordinary woman; Belle French was a Vampire Slayer.

From a young age it had been just Belle and her Mother, her Father having left in her youth. It had set up a certain resentment deep within her, questioning why she and her Mother weren’t enough for him. Through the years she’d heard whispers and rumours, tales of her Father’s drunken tirades just a few towns over from her own in Australia. But as she grew older she found that she didn’t have the energy nor the time to try to focus on her Father and the loss of him in her life. Instead she had bigger fish to fry as her Mother revealed her destiny, and the fact that she herself was involved. Collette French was her Mother and her Watcher, which meant she began to train her daughter for the destiny neither of them had asked her to have.

Ever the academic Belle had at least managed to maintain schooling whilst Slaying, giving off the impression to the world that she was just another teenage girl. Interested more in books than in boys, in classic movies than current, and spending time with her Mother than with her peers. Of course, that was to train, and not to relax like a girl her age should have been. She mastered weaponry just as easily as she did reading and reciting prose, and had inherited a determination from her Mother to be the best at her calling that she could possibly be.

They were a team, working seamlessly side by side. That was until Collette had lost her life to a Vampire, a message sent to Belle in her own Mother’s blood to remind her that nobody was safe in her world, and Belle would always be a danger to be around. Where she went, Vampires would only follow, and everything else in life had to come secondary to her calling. Which was why she looked through the research her Mother had been collecting and realised that as much work as she had to do in Australia, a bigger threat was brewing elsewhere. As painful as it was to say goodbye to the only home she had ever known there was a sense of relief within her at doing so; leaving meant leaving the agony of losing her Mother. At least, leaving the scene of it. That agony would never leave her, and it fuelled her anger and determination. So if supernatural activity was growing elsewhere she would follow, and she would hunt every single Vampire that she could. Every single one of them would pay for the pain she felt, and for the pain her Mother had suffered.

It was why the demure looking Australian with hair as soft as silk and eyes bluer than the ocean was now living above the Library in a little apartment in a small town in Maine by the name of Storybrooke, about to begin work as the local Librarian It was also why that Australian woman was fighting - and perhaps outnumbered - by a group of newborns, converging on her as if she were an appetiser and they were starved. She fought, staking one, then another and another until she found herself struggling against the rest. With her stake knocked out of her hand, one of the Vampires teeth bared at her, Belle knew she had to think fast and come up with a way out of this that didn’t end in her untimely death.

That was where Rumplestiltskin came in to the frame. Though he had no desires to play hero, no wish to protect a simple human, he did have self preservation squarely in mind. It was why he ran faster than a normal man should be able to, rounding and leaping gravestones as the sounds became louder and clearer all in one. He counted at least 4 - no, wait, now 3 - Vampires and a solidly, rapidly beating heart. That had to be a human which meant they were massively outnumbered. Maybe they’d killed a Vampire, maybe he’d misheard or maybe the fourth had run off, but he still didn’t feel like they had terribly good odds. On one hand, he could easily let the Vampires kill the human and then deal with them, but he knew that it was wiser for his own safety to save the human, kill the Vampires and then make his exit. No questions asked, no time for issues to arise.

He did realise that he had to at least look as close to a human as he dispatched the Vampires as possible. Though he wished to vault over gravestones and use his enhanced speed to get through them as quickly as he could do, he forced himself to be calmer. He still had to act fast to stop the Vampire from making her in to his dinner, but a controlled speed at that. A swift stake to the back of one and then another, and he was catching sight of a Vampire atop the human.

Instead of a flagrant showcase of strength in which he snapped their neck as he wished to, he slammed the stake he’d produced from the inside pocket of his jacket squarely in to their back, through the heart and drew back just as firmly to allow them to turn in to dust atop her. Not exactly pleasant for her but he suspected she’d take a little coughing fit over being very dead.

  
It was only then that he actually got a proper look at the woman he’d just saved. Mid twenties at most, beautiful and certainly attractive. There was a fire in her eyes and it had his gaze drifting for a beat to her left, spotting a stake there on the ground. Could it be that this slender woman with the slight frame had purposely been out there and actively fighting his kind? Perhaps that was why the numbers appeared to lessen as he approached, perhaps she’d actually killed one of them on her own?

A chill ran through him then as another thought crossed his mind. One that, at over 300 years old, he was no stranger to. Could it be that this woman was hunting his kind because it was her duty to do so? Was this his first time coming across a Slayer for many years? He could only hope not and that she was simply a fool with a misguided desire to do good in the world. Otherwise he’d just made a very substantial mistake in saving her life.

Wary and almost wanting to test her, Rumplestiltskin took a step back and away from her, gesturing off towards the stake with a questioning look on his face. “You dropped something,” he spoke simply, wanting to see her reaction to that. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. His way of trying to dodge some of the bullshit and smokescreens to try to get her to reveal something, anything, that would help him work out just who and what she was.

Belle has been nervous, scared even, to be pinned by a Vampire. She had been in tight spots before but this one had caught her by surprise. Despite her size and stature she was capable, she was strong, and she was not accustomed to not being the one with the upper hand. Though she’d fought large Vampires before, this one was almost twice her size and that did certainly make a difference. That was until she - struggling to reach out for the stake she’d dropped in the fumble - found that rather than feeling the heavy weight and impending doom atop her, felt dust scatter all over her. A sign that the Vampire was no more and someone had saved her life.

Eyes shooting wide to look up at the person responsible, Belle was scrambling to her feet, swiping the stake in to her hand as she did so. Whilst she didn’t for a moment suspect that this was another Vampire that had saved her life, she was still wary of him. What kind of normal man was in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of the night, holding a stake by the looks of it in his hand? No normal man would be doing that, and it had her immediately defensive. Not only that, of course, but the fact that she, of all people, had needed saving had upset her. Yes, she was pleased he’d turned up when he did, but the fact that she’d even needed it was already starting to gripe at her.

“Astute observation,” she replied, cool in her retort. Dusting herself off with her free hand, Belle took a step back to put some space between her and this mysterious stranger. Careful does it, after all. “I was about to grab it, before you came in to try to play hero.” Belle added, remaining cool even if her cheeks were flushed with frustration. Her heart was starting to slow from the fearful, adrenaline filled pounding to a more steady beat. A glance around and she saw that all of the Vampires she had been fighting were no longer there, likely dust beneath their feet, and it again had her regarding him with cautious curiosity. She’d now gone from a routine evening patrolling, to needed to unravel the mystery of this man.

Rumplestiltskin, to his credit, managed to suppress his laugh in to a brief snort. The title of ‘hero’ was not one that he was remotely interested in. It was self preservation masquerading as a briefly heroic act, if she so desired the use of such a term. But it was also humorous to him that rather than thank him for his actions, she was immediately acting as if he had done her a disservice. “The words you’re actually looking for are ‘ _thank you_ ’,” he quipped, corner of his mouth twitching in to a smile.

Whilst he suspected that this was a Slayer before him, he had to play it carefully. Not let her know exactly what he was, try to fish for more information. She could just as easily be a young woman trying to be brave and foolish, couldn’t she? Just as he could easily be a middle aged man trying to play hero out in the dark of night.

Though he smiled an almost sarcastic smile at her, he did take a small step back himself to add to the distance between the two of them. Distance was safety, and with his step being as small as it was, no normal human would be able to catch it. Belle, however, did. It was subtle, yes, but she was trained to notice these things. To watch and be on guard, to be aware of everything and everyone. Not just because her natural abilities allowed it, but because her years of rigorous training had sharpened those abilities and talents.

“Thank you for what? Showing off an ego? I had it handled. This isn’t a place for amateurs,” she was firm as she spoke, hand clutching the stake in preparation. No sane human would stick around after seeing what he had just seen, nor would they be prepared to fight a Vampire with a stake in hand. That alone made him suspicious, didn’t it?

She spoke with fire to her words, a confidence in her despite what a stick end she had almost met just moments before. She was experienced, and it only continued to tip his suspicions about her in one particular direction. A dangerous one at that. It would be easy to underestimate her considering her stature, the beauty in her face and the mere fact that she was vastly younger than he was. Slayer or not, she was out here fighting and he needed to remind himself that even if she wasn’t ‘the chosen one’, she was a potential problem to him and his quiet life in Storybrooke.

Another step back and he was perching to sit on the edge of a gravestone, hand still holding on to his stake even as he let both of his rest in his lap. She hadn’t tried to stake him just yet so he knew that if he continued to play it as he was, to just make a slip up, that he could walk away from this unscathed and more informed. So he’d play it cool himself, make sure that his body language was calmer than it _should_ be.

“Ego? Please. You were seconds away from being his appetiser this evening. But I’m sure we can rustle up another group of baby Vamps and you can show off to your hearts content.” A pause and he nodded towards her, lips briefly pushing together. “The lady doth project too much, as I’m certainly not the one with the ego here.” He knew immediately that he would bother her with that, but that was the point. She clearly felt like she had a lot to prove - another sign that she could potentially be the slayer - and now he was poking the bear, so to speak. All to see if he could find out a little bit more.

Despite part of her knowing already, just instinctively, that she was being goaded she still found her eyebrows shooting upwards, brows wrinkling in a mixture of shock and anger. This man didn’t even know her, and so what if he was devilishly handsome and had a drawl that would make her weak in the knees at any other point? Clearly he was an arrogant asshole, and she had to deal with enough of those in her line of work as it was. At least she could usually just stake them and be done with it though.

But for all of his arrogance, which exuded from him in waves in her opinion at the very least, he didn’t seem to be a danger. Whilst she wouldn’t entirely discount that idea, because only a fool would do such a thing, his position did appear to be relaxed enough to give her the impression that danger wasn’t imminent with him. Still clutching her stake, she at least found herself gravitating in closer once more, taking a small step towards him. Perhaps out of curiosity she found her feet making that instinctive step, perhaps it was simply to make sure _he_ didn’t feel like he had too much space to flip a switch and become something more dangerous than he appeared to be right now. “Listen, Prince Charming, before you got here, I took on four of those little monsters on my own. So don’t even begin to infer that I’m incapable. You have _no_ idea what I’m capable of.” A thank you _should_ have come out of her mouth and she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Ego, frustration and even a certain sense of confusion over who precisely he was forced her in to holding back.

The fact that she was frustrated by his aid had him doing his very best to suppress a smirk from his lips. If she was indeed a Slayer then that was her weakness, just like it was with all the others. They were always the same, weren’t they? These ‘gifts’ they had clouded their minds and judgement, made them feel like they were untouchable. But the simplest of truths was that they all died in the end, usually at the hands of a Vampire, and the arrogance was _always_ to blame for it.

At least he knew how to hurt her if he had to, didn’t he?

“Don’t put words into my mouth. I didn't suggest such a thing. I’m simply saying that you have an ego, and clearly can’t admit that I saved your life.” A cock of his eyebrow at her had Belle scoffing over towards him, eyeing him with annoyance. She needed to know why a normal, middle aged man with chocolate brown eyes would be in a graveyard at this time of night, clearly itching for a fight himself. She was the Slayer. She was the one capable and strong. He was just a man, wasn’t he? At least, that’s what she thought he was, and needed to confirm as such. “What’s a normal enough man like you doing out here at this time of night anyway?” she asked, getting to the point with that aspect of curiosity.

With her approaching him he’d kept his eyes fixed on her, save for a brief second where he observed the grip she had on the stake she held. It was a confident grip, the kind that came with a practiced ease. As if the stake was almost part of her at this point. A further tick in the ‘must be the Slayer’ column. Which meant that under her questioning he was well aware that he had to be careful, to ensure that he steered her away from suspicion.

It did amuse him, tremendously so in fact, that she called him ‘normal enough’. If only she knew, she’d know that he was the polar opposite of ‘normal’. Even by Vampire standards he was unique and different, the opposite in so many ways to the kind of monster that he should be. “Well, I was grocery shopping but took a wrong turn. Got a little lost,” he quipped, sarcastic but light. Though sarcasm was his first instinct, being difficult for the sake of difficult, he recognised that if he wanted answers from her, he needed to be a little cleverer than that.

It meant that he pushed his lips together then, gesturing briefly towards her with a tilt of his head. “I would hazard a guess that, considering the accessories we’re both carrying, that I’m out here doing what you’re doing. _Slaying_ a few Vampires before bed. Works better than warm milk, doesn’t it, Princess?” he smiled briefly, essentially challenging her to deny that it was what she was doing. It would be foolish to do as such when it was quite obvious to them both, that each was aware of the supernatural world and the existence of Vampires. He wasn’t just guessing, she wouldn’t be either. She’d almost leapt forwards the moment he called her Princess even if she knew he was only doing so in retort to her own title of Prince Charming that she’d bestowed on him in sarcasm. So many people looked at her and misjudged who she was and what she was capable of all because she didn’t look like she was capable of it all. Princess was something she’d had sneered at her through the years and it had taken every ounce of self control to not scream at whoever said it that she was as far from a Princess as could be. She was a Slayer, she got her hands dirty and risked her life every single night for people who never even knew it. Nobody knew of her existence until it was too late, and nobody _could_ do.

“I don’t think glass slippers are an ideal accessory to go with the stake,” she retorted dryly, trying to hide - and mostly failing - how that nickname bothered her. People used it to undermine her one too many times, and she wouldn’t let him get away with saying it twice. Saving her life or not, there were certain things that she simply would not stand for. She did realise though that she was being baited and had two options; admit to what she was, or try to deflect. She didn’t who he was, what he was, why he was motivated to slay Vampires too. Letting him know that she was the Slayer was a dangerous move, and she wouldn’t take it lightly. Nor would she be so easily baited into it, much to his annoyance.

His sarcasm however also bothered her, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. The mere fact that he had a stake told her that he knew what he was doing out there. It only meant that her curiosity rose and her questions multiplied. “You’re just a concerned citizen then, doing your duty out here, Mr…?” she asked, trying to find _something_ out about him. A name would be a start, and a name would give her a place to begin. Even if he didn’t reveal much about himself tonight, she would have _something_ to go off on. A full library at her disposal, newspapers and the like, she’d track him if she had to.

He wanted to know about her? She’d flip it on it’s head. 

Rumplestiltskin did have to laugh quietly, humming briefly. “I suppose I could find a pair to try on myself, see how it works,” he quipped, joking even as he noticed that calling her a Princess seemed to hit a nerve. He could see the light pink flush that tinged the tip of her ears in annoyance, and he knew that he could also utilise that, should he need to, to antagonise her. It was important to know your enemy and were his suspicions found to be true, she absolutely would be the enemy.

Which was why he was resistant to her coaxing his name from him, just as he suspected she would be with him doing so with her. Names were power. Names had the ability to be the most dangerous commodity, especially when he was what he was, and she could be what he thought she was. So if she wanted it, he wanted something from her too. Even the risk, make it so that it wasn’t just for free. “I’ll tell you mine when you’ve told me yours,” he replied simply. “So?” he added, giving her a questioning look. 

Belle instead fixated on his quip about heels, retorting back as breezily as she could “You could probably do with the extra few inches.” He was already antagonising her so she wanted to do the same to him. She was annoyed - especially at herself tonight - and it meant that she lashed out where she shouldn’t. She did that more often than she would like to admit, even if it wasn’t very often at all. Though it was easy for the sun in her life to be blocked out by the fact she was a Slayer, it was only losing her Mother that had made those eclipses happen more frequently. She was a little broken, just like everyone was really, and she tried to keep those pieces together as much as she could. A challenge when she felt as irritated as she did, and something she’d likely be annoyed at herself for come morning.

A simple pause then and she looked at him, not surprised that he’d opted to be a challenge yet again. That didn’t mean that she was going to be honest though. She wanted his name, but he’d make her work for his still. “Lacey,” she replied simply, her baby blues meeting his warm brown eyes. For the smallest second she found that those eyes of his were oddly enchanting, but it passed as quickly as it came.

What she didn’t realise was that when she lied, there was a little pick up in the pace of her heartbeat and he knew without a doubt that it was a lie. Still, the name he chose for himself these days was a lie too. Going by his given name in this day and age, where names were like Kaitlynn and Brandon, Rumplestiltskin stuck out like a sore thumb. He kept it distant and casual, keeping things private whilst putting out enough of an impression to the world that he was a normal man so he was left in peace. So, in the interest of not arousing her suspicion and giving her a very clean profile of a man to chase, he inclined his head towards her to accept that she had at least given him a name. “Mr. Gold,” he began before he was rising to stand, shooting her a brief smirk. “As for the inches, it depends where you’re looking,” he added smugly. There were at least a few areas in his life that he was confident about, and that was the one he was _more_ than confident in. 

Despite herself Belle actually was amused by his retort, her own lips twitching upwards. He almost seemed like he was flirting with that, and she wasn’t going to even remotely admit that she quite liked that. He was a stranger, an odd one, and she wasn’t about to start to get heart eyes over the man. Yet, she couldn’t quite let it go and gestured towards the stake her held, a hum of her own following. “Here I was thinking that big pointy stick was overcompensating for something,” she drawled. Without thinking of the action itself, she ran a hand through her hair, brushing it aside and over one shoulder. Silently, as she did so, she repeated his name to herself. Not a full name, but enough, and she’d find out just who he was, and why he was out there on her own if she couldn’t get it directly from the source itself.

It was an action that he watched, without even intending to, and it took him a brief moment to simply smirk back at her. He wasn’t going to rise to that little bait, confident enough to let it all slide. Instead, he moved a step away from the gravestone then, reaching to brush away some dust from the lapel of his jacket. “Well, now we’ve exchanged names and pleasantries, I’ll be on my way. You do seem to be confident enough to have it all covered, yes?” he spoke, giving her an expectant look. Now he had a name - real or fake, it didn’t matter - he was going to go home and begin some research on her. His actions tonight had all been about self preservation; kill the Vampires to keep his own identity a secret and discover if she was his enemy or not. 

Belle snorted at him, hand going to her hip. “If you think I’m a damsel in distress then why are you just walking away?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, her stake twirled between her fingers and fingertips absently. It seemed that he wasn’t quite the gentleman that he perhaps thought he was if he was leaving someone he probably didn’t expect could take care of herself out there to do precisely that. Of course, it would make the rest of her night easier to not have to watch him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t help one little last dig at him. “Or are you scared of losing the upper-hand to me out here in this graveyard? Walking away before I find out just what it is you’re doing out here?”

She was trying to get a rise out of him and despite himself, he did allow himself a snort and laugh. Slayer or not, whilst he wanted to avoid any confrontation with her, he was confident in his ability to survive should they have to fight. You didn’t make it to his age without that confidence, without having tricks up your sleeve. “No, but to be perfectly candid, I intend on getting a step ahead of you. We both know that when we get out of here, the first thing we’re going to do is research each other. Why wait until morning what can be done now? After all, a 5 foot nothing young woman who looks like she could be toppled by a sudden gust of wind doesn’t usually choose to slay Vampires in the middle of the night, do they?” He was candid for two reasons; one because he wasn’t going to let her think for a second that she had any level of upper hand here. Secondly to make a point that he knew enough about this world to not be a simple walk over. Perhaps that would only increase her interest in him, but it was a calculated move and a choice that he needed to make in order to try to get _her_ to play a card from her hand too.

Before either of them could continue there were footsteps approaching, and he knew instinctively that it would be another Vampire. She wanted to talk about upper hands? He rose his to show her that he had this, a confident expression on his face. He was cool, he was calm, and he purposely slowed down his movements so he didn’t slay in a blur. As the Vampire leapt from a gravestone to try to attack, Rumple spun and extended his arm out, stake in hand, slamming it against their chest to turn them into nothing more than dust. 

It was sad, really, how easily his kind could be ended. One day he supposed he’d end up like dust too, and it was a thought process he usually did all he possibly could do to avoid allowing himself to fall in to.

Brushing dust from his shoulder, Rumple made a point of sighing as he looked over towards her. “Newborns are always so foolish,” he paused, corner of his lip twitching in to a sly smile. “What was that about the upper hand?”


	2. The Warm and Fuzzy Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Gold and Belle are trying to scope each other out in the middle of the night in the library. Will they manage it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Graveyard interaction is being split in to 3 chapters just for length really! I don't want to overwhelm and for anyone to get bored reading XD 
> 
> As always, please do leave me any comments/thoughts/opinions/constructive feedback as I love all of that!

This man was a curious one, and it perplexed Belle no end to be stood opposite him in a Graveyard in the middle of the night, slaying Vampires and aware that he was doing the same. It wasn’t a normal night for her, simply because of the addition of  _ him _ . With a Vampire clearly approaching, Belle of course had been curious to see how he reacted to said Vampire and though she knew he’d slayed before considering the fact he’d saved her life by doing so. She wanted to see him in action. To be able to take a step back, work out what he was genuinely capable of. His instincts seemed sharp, especially for a man of what she presumed to be in his 40s, middle to late. What had her even more curious though was that he wanted to begin to research her now. Curious enough to cock an eyebrow of her own up at him. “Before we talk about  _ that _ ,” she began referring to his slaying of the Vampire, “I’m curious. You have a lot of nocturnal contacts to discuss me with? I mean, I’m just a normal woman, so of course I’ll be waiting until a more respectable hour to begin my research in to you.” Her eyes flicked up and down, taking him in. “Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know?”

Though she wasn’t sure if she  _ should _ open the floor up to him in such a way, she was genuinely curious to know what he was hoping to find out about her. It stood to reason that he knew about the supernatural world and so, she wondered, did he know about  _ her _ and what she was? There was only one way to find out, and she was trying to now.

A brief twitch upwards of his lips at her, a slight tilt of his head as if he were trying to get a better look at her and he was shrugging a shoulder. “I have contacts that would forgo sleep if they knew I had something of importance to research,” he replied to her, careful with his phrasing. Jefferson and Dove tended to be more on the ‘human’ scale of living, with their nighttimes being nighttimes and days being days. But if Rumple called they answered, and they weren’t opposed to being up till the wee hours should they need to be .

“Hm,” he replied simply, a clear look that told her that he didn’t trust that she’d be honest with him. “There’s nothing to talk about with regards to killing the Vampire on my end though. I heard, I saw, I slayed.” Nonchalantly he shrugged, once more reaching up to brush away a few stray specks of dust from his suit jacket. A non conventional slaying outfit he presumed in the eyes of many but on the same thread, what would be a conventional outfit to wear? He wore full suits, almost all of the time. It was like armour to him, and perhaps without even realising it, it helped to make him feel safer.

It did strike him that he said ‘contacts’, not friends. Considering the fact he was out there at this time of night, doing what he was doing, she was already getting the impression that he was something of a loner. Something safe when you slayed, something all too familiar to her. “Strange how you don’t call them friends. I presume you do have those in town?” She questioned.

Friends was a term he resisted. You lived like he did, as long as he did, and all you did was watch people die. It was foolish to get too attached to someone, to consider anyone your friend. Ultimately, you’d lose them in the end. So instead of actually answering her, he opted for sarcasm. Deflection. “Are you volunteering? Will you braid us matching bracelets?”

“You don’t seem like the warm and fuzzy type, Mr Gold,” she pointed out with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Neither do you,” he countered, aware that if she was who he thought, she couldn’t afford to be warm and fuzzy. The life of a Slayer had to be a lonely one, just like his did. That did something to you as a person, it hardened you to the softer things. Things he’d once fully embraced and now knew he simply couldn’t afford.

As a way of dragging more information from her settled on the tip of his tongue, a crack of a twig behind him again had him ready to turn and take out the next Vampire. It was a busy evening, only adding to his suspicions on what precisely was bringing all of these new supernatural elements to the town he’d purposely chosen to settle in, in order to avoid it all. 

“My turn,” he quipped, intending on showing off. Moving quickly, surely quicker than he could react, Belle slipped into the role she’d been born to play. Springing into a backflip and sending a swift high kick into the newborn Belle solidly knocked them to the floor. She liked to try to knock them down when she could do, her height no longer a disadvantage in any fight if they were disorientated by a fall. Leaning down over them, with a quick move of her arm she stabbed the stake firmly into their heart, with not a nanosecond of hesitation. Perhaps she’d regret her theatrics and acrobatic movements when she hadn’t warmed up beforehand, having stopped to talk to the mysterious Mr Gold since but, catching her breath, she was pleased regardless. One less monster out in the world, one less problem to deal with. 

A smug grin tugged at her lips, brushing her hair back from her face as she returned to him. “We  _ were _ talking about the upper hand before, weren’t we?” 

It was enough to make him scoff at her, shaking his head at the petty little competition they both seemed to wish to have. If they were both men people would have called it a dick measuring contest, but as it were they were just two people who apparently felt like they had something to prove that night.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he began, smiling to himself at the irony of that little comment. “I’d heard that Slayers were theatrical show offs, but I never thought I’d see it for myself.” He wanted to make it clear to her that he  _ knew _ what she was. At least, he was relatively sure that he’d worked her out appropriately. If he was wrong, he’d find out in time, but right now he was putting together the clues and felt like he’d worked her out. Not good for him, unless he managed to protect his own identity from her long enough to get her to move on to a new town to protect. “Unsurprising why so few make it out of their teenage years when that’s how they choose to slay.” He added, shrugging a moment. “You  _ are _ the Slayer, aren’t you?” Cocking an eyebrow at her, a knowing look on his face, he was determined to get the truth from her. One way or another, he’d find out and confirm it.

It had her breath catching as she looked at him, eyes narrowing instantly. So, he knew about the world of Vampires, much more than any normal man should do. Which meant that if she denied the truth, he’d likely continue to dig further and find out more about her past than she wanted a stranger to know. She could easily pretend to be clueless about it all, but even as she considered it she knew it would be a ridiculous choice to make. “You seem to know an awful lot about me, Mr. Gold,” she responded simply, confirming his suspicions without actively saying ‘yes’. 

Despite the calm exterior he had, having the confirmation of what she was made his stomach briefly flip. So she was indeed his arch nemesis, wrapped up in the little bow that was in the form of an attractive young woman. He almost felt guilty knowing that he’d have to kill her if she ever knew what he was. _ Almost _ . Still, he let out a satisfied hum, wanting to play it all a little cool. “I read a lot,” he shrugged, as if that were enough. “Don’t be so surprised, Slayer. If I didn’t know about Vampires, I wouldn’t be out here modelling this, would I?” he asked, gesturing with the stake that he’d used to dust two of his kind in front of already. “Stands to read that I’ve done a little reading in to what their weaknesses are.” Which, in turn would mean finding out about her. It was logical, though he doubted it would stop her from digging into who he was. 

Some of the weaknesses he read about were quite hilarious and clearly a work of fiction from an overactive imagination. He didn’t dislike garlic, he could see his reflection in a mirror and wore both silver and gold jewelry with no issues. Unfortunately some of the weaknesses were true. Sunlight would kill him, as would a stake to the chest. A cross burned his flesh, and holy water did too. The main weakness that he knew to be true was the one standing right in front of him; The Slayer. She was his prey and predator all wrapped up into one.

There was certainly something suspicious about this ‘Mr Gold’ if that indeed was his name. People didn’t just decide to go out and hunt Vampires. Not without real cause behind it and she needed to unravel what that cause was. Unless all of the lore she knew of was wrong, he wasn’t the male version of her, so there was something much deeper and much more curious for her to work out. She was sure though that if anyone could, it would be her.

So she scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “You may think you know me, you may well have read a couple of books but, Mr Gold, I can assure you that you do not.” A pause, and she sighed, eyes narrowing briefly. “Besides, why does a person like you develop an interest in the world of Vampires? It’s hardly like deciding to take up reading Shakespeare, is it?”

“Then who are you, Slayer?” he countered, wanting her to prove any preconceptions he had of her wrong. Not that she would be able to do that, of course. Everything he thought about her already came from experience. It came from knowing what a Slayer was, what they did and why they were very bad for him to be around. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you why I developed the interest I have in the world of Vampires.” It was only fair, right? A snippet of information in exchange for one from her. Quid pro quo. 

Scoffing at him Belle simply shook her head at him, hand bracing on to her hip defiantly. “Do you honestly think that I believe you’ll tell me any truths? I doubt you’ve even given me your real name, so why should I tell you who I am?” she was challenging him, perhaps too much but being what and who she was, having seen how it hurt her Mother in the end had left her with a chip on her shoulder. One so big it could blind her from a bigger picture, like how answering one simple question from him may well lead to him answering one of hers.

Briefly darting his tongue out, dragging it over first his upper then lower lip, almost snake like in how he did so, Rumple let out a sigh once more. “You’re frustrating but here, how about a little truth for you?” he began, taking a step closer to her. Though he felt anything but emotional over what he was about to say, he made sure to force his eyes to water with sadness, wanting her to see that there was a truth to what he was about to say.

“Many years ago, a Vampire killed my wife.” It wasn’t a lie, but he did omit one very important fact; the Vampire that killed his wife, was the one stood right in front of her, right now.

His statement had her falling silent, admittedly surprised by that. Belle was sure that he’d only told her to shock her like that, and for a minute, it definitely worked. For a brief second, she wanted to apologise, to relent on their conversation but she knew she couldn’t do that. Her expression softened briefly and she gestured towards him once more as he stood, not quite as biting as she’d been earlier. ‘’So, that’s what this is, a revenge quest?’’ A sort of relenting, but not quite.

“If that’s what you want to think it is, then yes,” he smiled a moment, not wanting to elaborate on that any further. “I know Vampires exist. Keeping the population of said Vampires down is very much a priority to me. The lower I can keep that population, the lesser the risk to my life. I’m a survivor, Slayer. I make sure of it.” The lower the population, the less likely it was that the folk in this modern world would be aware of their existence and so the safer his own became. If he were not one of the hunted in this world, then he could just live his life in peace, just as he wanted.

Her brow furrowed, finding it odd that he worded his statement that way. If that’s what you think it is. That was an odd statement to make, it confused her, and she found it strange to think that he didn’t simply answer yes or no. It made her think that there was something else there, something that he wasn’t telling her and she eyed him. ‘’It seems you’ve been doing my job for me then.’’ She responded simply, a half, humourless laugh leaving her. Somehow she doubted that he’d be resting on his laurels even now she was there, and she didn’t really mind that. Belle did worry that somehow he’d be caught out but in someway, she felt as if she owed him and she wanted to repay that debt as soon as possible, to avoid being in debt to a man like him. Of course, she wasn’t about to actively repay that debt, or even thank him for it; something about him still rubbed her the wrong way and she still needed time to figure him out.

“You haven’t been in town long, have you? Someone had to do it. The less that people know about the existence of Vampires, the better. So I opted against a personal ad in the newspapers calling for heroics and chose to do them myself.” Shrugging again, he wasn’t lying there either in a sense; the less people knew about his kind the better. His whole rational for this was to ensure the existence of his kind stayed secret, so he could remain living a peaceful life.

It was true that she hadn’t been in town for long at all, but she’d had to come when she’d heard of the problem brewing. Colette had countless amounts of research into this town, she had printed off articles and written notes that pointed to something suspicious going on in Storybrooke. It was so far away from their home in Australia that Belle knew something had to be wrong for her to take an interest in it, certainly. Maybe she just wanted to complete one last mission for her Mother, to see the research she’d worked on through and stop whatever was happening when she hadn’t been able to stop her Mum’s attack and death. ‘’Sounds like you’re the one being heroic there, Mr Gold.’’ Belle commented breezily, well aware that he was right. She didn’t blame him, in some ways. 

“Now,” he began again, reaching up to rub at his chin briefly, eyeing her all the while. “If you expect me to answer your questions yet cannot answer mine, then I think our time together this evening is truly done. This little confessional,” he gestured between the two of them. “Isn’t a one way street. I give and you give, or I give nothing more.”

“Are you telling me that you’re not enjoying this little game between us, Mr Gold?” she questioned. Truthfully she wasn’t going to stop him from walking away right now if he wanted to leave and get that head start on her that he had seemed so intent on earlier then so be it. He wouldn’t get far with the name ‘Lacey’, so why not let him go for his wild goose chase? Yet, she wasn’t about to make it easy for him. 

“At least you admit that’s what this is. Though I’m sure there are many other games more enjoyable to play. Wouldn’t you agree?” he drawled, shrugging his shoulders, nonchalant as he spoke. 

“Oh, I’m sure. I’m quite partial to a game of Scrabble myself.’’ A smirk passed across her features as she shrugged, well aware he probably meant something else. Despite the almost combative way they were speaking to each other, there was an odd undercurrent to it. Perhaps neither of them even realised it, but there was something almost flirtatious, almost playful behind the scorn. 

The corner of his mouth turned upwards at her response. He’d purposely phrased it that way, not necessarily to flirt - he was a little horrified at himself for even wanting to - but to see just how she answered and she gave him quite an interesting one indeed. “So you like the quieter things in life.” He mused, not surprised by that if it were true. “Scrabble is a fine enough game but Chess is more intellectually challenging.” He played every game in life like a game of chess, even this right now. He was giving up a few pawns along the way to lull her in, to almost earn some sort of trust so that she would, without even realising it, put her strongest pieces in jeopardy. He’d take her King before she could take his, he would make sure of it.

He was undeniably right that she liked the quieter things in life, that she didn’t like her whole life revolving around fighting and surviving. Belle liked spending her evenings reading or watching the television, and she even enjoyed nights when she didn’t have to patrol. Of course, those were rare and few and far between but they had once existed, and she had to admit she missed the normality of her old life. ‘’I bet not a lot of people beat you at Chess, in that case.’’ She spoke airily, cocking an eyebrow even as she spoke. Naturally, she felt as if she could beat him, if given half the chance.

With his lips twitching at her almost compliment, Rumple inclined his head briefly towards her. “Unbeaten for quite some time, I confess,” he drawled. The last loss he’d suffered had been many, many years ago and in his fury at being beaten he’d ripped out the other man’s throat with his teeth. Needless to say he was calmer now, more in control of his temper and ego but he would still dislike to be beaten at all. Jefferson had come close, more than once, but Rumple had managed to prevail each time.

She felt as if she could fully knock his ego back a peg or two if given half the chance. Colette had used games like Scrabble and Chess to work on her critical thinking, to get her to think tactically about everything. ‘’I’m sure we can change that, if you ever have a quiet moment.’’ Belle drawled easily, feeling confident in her own abilities. Why she even wanted to play against him, to beat him, she didn’t really know. If she was being sensible, she would have ended this half an hour ago, when he’d saved her from that vampire. She should have walked away, left it all alone, and not thought about it again, but she couldn’t find it within herself to walk away. 

He was surprised though that she wanted to play Scrabble with him, suspecting that her ego was to blame for that and he decided to tease her instead. “Why, Slayer, are you sweet on me already? If you want me alone for a few hours, no need to be so coy,” he drawled, though of course he wouldn’t allow that with them. He may well be flirting - still he couldn’t understand why he was, though resolved to be sure that was all he did - but he wasn’t actually saying no to a game. An opportunity to read her style of play would tell him a lot about her as a person. 

A snort left her as she looked across at him, the thought of being sweet on him quite ridiculous, really. As if she’d be sweet on a man she’d met less than an hour ago. ‘’Your ego really knows no bounds, Mr Gold. I’m sure you’re used to people throwing themselves at your feet but I can assure you that I’m not one of those people.’’ A sharp, almost amused look and she brushed her hair back from her face, the wind blowing it around her shoulders. ‘’If we play, it’s purely for tactical reasons and perhaps to show you that you’re not unbeatable.’’ 

He did chuckle low though, gesturing towards her. “Simply trying to keep up with the inflation of your own,” he drawled, not wanting her to think for a second that he didn’t see her posing and posturing, her attempts at inflating her ego and image in front of him. But he wasn’t impressed by the fact she was the Slayer, or all the gifts that gave her. The only gift he was ever truly impressed by was that of intelligence. If she truly wanted him to be awed by her, she’d have to prove herself with that game of Scrabble. One day. Maybe.

“Perhaps one day.” He added simply. No agreement to play but not shutting her down. It could give him another opportunity to scout her, which was one that he knew could prove valuable for him. To know your enemy was the only way to outsmart your enemy. 


	3. Vanity and Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their talk in the Graveyard winds down, the two of them are left with more questions about the other than answers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and for kudos etc. Please do let me know if you have any thoughts/comments etc. I've wanted to do a little bit of character building with these first three chapters, to establish who they are and a little bit about how they are in this AU world. Hopefully that's working well!

A swift change of the subject was needed and, with a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks, Belle cleared her throat and continued on. “You haven’t even tried to ask me another question now you’ve so  _ kindly _ shared your truth with me. Providing it is indeed the truth,” she challenged. Flirting was all well and good - God knows why she was doing it - but she wasn’t going to learn more from him at this moment if she continued to play like that. No, she needed to lay some groundwork down, and before the night was done and he finally did relent and leave her for the night, she needed to know  _ more _ to try to work out his story.

“I haven’t lied to you yet,” he paused, lips twitching. She was a challenge, an enigma and whilst he did indeed wish to walk away from her right now, there was another part of him too curious to just walk away. 

A snort left her, clearly not at all believing him there. He could claim to be truthful all he wanted but she didn’t believe him and she remained sceptical, eyes narrowed in his direction. He was so calm and collected, as cool as winter, but she suspected very much so that there was something beneath the surface that he was hiding. Outside was a calm snowstorm of cool, but on the inside she suspected he bubbled raw heat like an active volcano. Belle didn’t know what it was yet but she would find out, and she’d do so as soon as she possibly could. She was at a disadvantage for now; in a new town, with no watcher and no real friends as of yet but she was inventive, and she could find a way to discover the truth. The thought of not being with her Mother, her watcher and confidant, was hard but she pushed that thought away and focused on the then and there. “Yet implies that you are planning on doing so though, hmm?’’

“That depends.”

“On what?” she asked.

“Whether you’re honest in your answers to me. I have something of a talent for reading when people lie,” he shrugged. Hearing heart rates, the throbbing of pulses and picking up on the slight discoloration of a human’s skin all helped him come to see and understand when someone was lying to him. It was exceptionally rare that he misread those biological signs. 

Eyeing him, Belle highly suspected that he was capable of such a thing. For a start he would have worked out by now then that her name was fake. Though she didn’t know that he knew the truth, she’d certainly not been called out on it and felt like in that aspect she already had the upper hand with this mysterious, Vampire fighting stranger. “Alright then. No pun intended, but I’ll bite. Ask me a question.”

“What brought you to Storybrooke from Australia?” he asked, aware he could have gone for any number of questions but that one was most pressing currently. Perhaps it would even help him trace her and who she was, to dig into her past. “I’m not fully versed on Australian dialect but it certainly seems more in that region, rather than New Zealand.” He was an educated man, and had even been to that side of the world for a few months, many, many years back. The sheer amount of sunlight had swiftly changed his desire to explore the country though and he’d only spent a small amount of time there before finding passage on a ship due elsewhere. 

“Melbourne,” she elaborated instinctively, proud of her home. But she set her jaw briefly, forcing herself to continue to answer his question. “My Watcher noticed a large amount of suspicious activity in this area.” It was the truth, at least.

“Mm, yes. I’ve read about Watchers. They’re meant to stay close to their Slayer, yes? So where’s yours?” Either she had a dead watcher, or it was another person he needed to keep an eye on in town. Watchers were often more of a danger than the Slayer themselves. It was their entire life’s purpose when they became a Watcher to know everything and anything about the Supernatural. Keen observers, intelligent and challenging, they were people that could work out who he was if given half the chance. 

Her Mother, her Watcher, was a touchy subject and had Belle with a lump in her throat. Her Watcher was six feet under back home in Australia, all because of her, and she was not willing to admit that to a man she had just met. Especially when she didn’t know his intentions, and when she was aware that if he were more nefarious than his behaviour suggested that he could then use the fact she was without a Watcher to his benefit. 

So she swallowed it down, shaking her head. “You’ve asked me a question and I answered, so if you’re wanting equality it’s  _ my _ turn to ask you one.” She was shameless in dodging his question and turning it directly back on to him. “Just what is it that you, Mr Gold, do in Storybrooke? Other than being a late night vigilante in an Armani suit.”

Cocking an eyebrow up at her as she so clearly dodged answering him, Rumple’s lips twitched upwards briefly. It was a sensitive point for her, it seemed which gave him a brief glimmer of hope. A dead Watcher, or even an estranged one would mean less for him to have to look out for there in Storybrooke. He already had enough to focus on and didn’t really want to have to put a Watcher in to the midst of things either. Especially if it meant he’d have to kill them for his own safety. That would trigger her interest in him too. “Interesting,” he commented, inhaling briefly before he was letting it out, preparing his usual answer for her. “I’m an investor in businesses. The ah, restaurant down by the docks? I invest. I like to be near my assets. I sold most over the years, that’s the only one remaining.” It was true. He was very rich - when you lived as long as he had, that was easy enough to come by - and the business was a legitimate one that his Warlock friend Jefferson ran. It provided Rumple with a cover, and assisted Jefferson.

‘An investor’ was hardly an answer and Belle looked across at him sceptically. She hadn’t seen the restaurant by the docks yet simply because she’d been in town less than twelve hours and she’d been busy moving her belongings into the apartment above the library that day, as well as keeping an eye on the centre of town. ‘’Over the years? I suppose that begs the question about your age.’’ She retorted, cocking an eyebrow in direction. She was guessing forties, maybe early fifties if not, but the way he spoke and acted put him even older. He had a certain attitude and air about him, after all. 

Shaking his head and tutting at her, Rumple lifted a finger to wag at her, chastising. “If we’re going tit for tat, that’s two questions in a row. My turn. So, now I ask again about your Watcher, because you seem very hesitant to share. Does that mean there’s no Watcher? Seems dangerous for a Slayer to be without a Watcher. From what I’ve read, they’re quite invaluable.” He was poking at her, he knew, but he was curious and it was an important tidbit of information for him to be aware of.

It had Belle fighting to resist a sigh when he continued his line of questioning regarding her watcher, her nose wrinkling in annoyance. Sure, she could lie and say that her Watcher was in Storybrooke with her, to let him stew and wonder just when they’d pop up and let him try to discover their non-existent identity but the thought of lying about that was something she couldn’t really stomach. Not when Belle desperately wished that it was the truth, she wished that Colette was still with her; fighting by her side and helping her as she had once done. Instead, she exhaled slowly and gave him a level look. 

‘’They’re very valuable.’’ She agreed shortly, looking down briefly before she looked back up, deciding that relative honesty was the best policy. He wasn’t going to get any further details about her, not when she didn’t even know whether she could trust him. ‘’There’s no Watcher. I can more than look after myself and any assumption otherwise would be stupid on your part. Any more questions about it would be fruitless, too.’’ With a curt tone, she simply shrugged a shoulder, openly admitting that she wasn’t happy to answer another question about it. Another topic, perhaps, but not regarding her Watcher. 

Rumple gave a single, silent nod in recognition. No Watcher. Her reaction to it said that the story behind that was a sad one and he imagined that she had either been rejected by that council - not unheard of when a Slayer didn’t bow to every little ideal they held - or the more likely where she’d lost her watcher to more nefarious things. Death or betrayal. Again, betrayal wasn’t unheard of, but death seemed the most likely. “I see. Judging from your defensiveness, an extension of ‘sorry for your loss’ seems fitting.” He did actually sound genuine there too. However much easier a lack of Watcher made life for him - and it certainly did - he knew that it was hard to not have some sort of close relationship with them when you were the slayer. So a loss would be difficult. Enough for someone to leave and move halfway across the world, even. He knew loss all too well and he didn’t downplay how that could impact you.

Without a Watcher, the Council had been breathing down her neck heavily in Australia and perhaps that was why she’d fled too. It was certainly a contributing factor. She hadn’t told them where she was going, what she was doing or why, because she knew they’d try and control her, to make her accept another Watcher when no-one could accept that role. A breath left her when he apologised for her loss, her face falling for a brief moment but she quickly schooled her expression before she could really feel sad about it all. It didn’t matter how genuine he sounded, a scowl still passed across her features, mostly because she hated that he seemed to be able to read her in that way. ‘’You refuse to be honest with me, Gold, so don’t expect the same courtesy in response. Please refrain from making assumptions about my life and my Watcher.’’ Her voice was more of a snap this time, less teasing, because it was a tense subject for her.

Furrowing his brows at her, Rumple shook his head, tucking the stake he held back into his pocket with a purposeful sigh. “There we go again, expecting lies. Is that because I didn’t immediately give you my age? It wasn’t my turn to answer, was it? But, if it will ease your woes, I’ll share. Even if, as the saying goes, it’s not only women you shouldn’t ask the age of. Some of us can be quite sensitive, fawning over our younger years.” He had no intentions of honesty with regards to his age, though would give her as close to the real age he’d been that he could remember when he’d been turned. 

His age would easily give him away but he could easily give her the age he was when turned which was a simple age of 45. He wouldn’t make it easy though, his lip twitching up briefly. “Perhaps as the saying goes, it’s not only women you shouldn’t ask the age of. Some of us can be quite sensitive, fawning over our younger years,” he replied lightly. He wasn’t sensitive about it of course but he wasn’t making that easy for her to find out. He was over 300 years old by now, and though many years blurred in to the next because of that time frame, many still stuck out in his mind in ways he didn’t want them to. 

“If you must know, I’m 40.” He added, snapping briefly as if it truly did upset him to share his age. “Mercifully I never did buy a leather coat and car with the top down, but there’s still time,” he added. It wasn’t a total lie; he’d been 45 when he’d been turned and was essentially that age. He’d died at 40,, reborn as a beast and he’d lived as one for over 300 years. “Don’t think my age means I can’t keep up though. I’ve killed my share of Vampires.” He added, as if that was why he was sensitive about it. 

Her eyebrows practically rose to his hairline when he spoke as if he was embarrassed by his age, not quite buying it at all. There was something Belle didn’t believe from his words, she doubted his story, and was reluctant to believe that his caginess was because he was shamed by his age. For all his airs and graces, he didn’t seem like the sensitive type in that way. If nothing else, it left her even more sceptical and she simply eyed him knowingly. If he was going to be sensitive about his age, then she would respond in kind about her own. She might be twenty five years old, but that was older than most slayers ended up living to and she showed no sign of passing the buck anytime soon. ‘’Age, as they say, is just a number.’’ Her tone was airy, giving a shrug of her shoulders

Cocking an eyebrow at her, he was going to continue on with this particular lie, simply because it was convenient to do so. Anything to try to throw her off of the scent of his real age and the reasons as to why. “Yes, well. Many write off men my age as middle aged fools. Surprised you didn’t immediately consider my being out here as that. Perhaps you deserve a tad more credit than I’m giving you so far,” he replied, turning things back to her the best he could simply because that was the safer topic and the best way of getting to know more about her if possible. 

“Mmm, ’I’d say the jury’s still out on just what kind of fool you are.’’ Her retort came dryly, wanting to show that she wasn’t quite as gullible as she perhaps looked and he could give him more than a little bit of credit.

She had him laughing, pointing towards her briefly. “You know, if you weren’t quite so annoying, Slayer, I might well like you.” She had fire, spunk, and he liked that. It was nice to actually talk to someone and spar with words rather than fists and stakes. This was the right distance to keep a Slayer at, and a much easier way of fighting them. 

“Too kind,” a pause and she decided that her interest had now been more than raised and, despite the hour, now she had more information to hand, she wanted to be the one now to get that head start on him. “As  _ wonderful _ as your company has been, I’m going to go home now.” She had a long night ahead with research, and a long day to come and if he wanted to try to be the one to get the first step, then she’d beat him to it.

Scoffing at her, Rumple shook his head, cocking an eyebrow in response. “Oh no. You don’t get to stop me from leaving so you can play this little 20 questions game, and then walk away in the middle of it.” That would mean she’d had the last word here and he didn’t want that. He was too stubborn for it, his ego on edge at the mere thought of the Slayer having one up on him in any way at all.

Belle also wanted to gain that upper hand, to take back some control by being the one to walk away now she had provided herself with the opportunity. A half laugh left her, a hand falling to her hip stubbornly. ‘’And just how do you plan on stopping me, in that case?’’ 

Opting to wind her up briefly, to take back some form of control, Rumple shrugged a shoulder. “Go if you want. But now I’ve said that, well, you’ll only be leaving because I said so. Bit of a tricky one, wouldn’t you say?” He knew she’d want the upper hand, to leave of her own accord and be the one walking away so even though permission wasn’t a real thing here, he still wanted to make a point and irritate her. It had been a long time since he’d last irritated a Slayer.

“How about this? Tell me one more thing about yourself, and you can walk away. I’ll even let you have the last word so you can feel good about it.” A pause, and he took a small step in closer, gesturing towards her. “What’s your favourite book?”

Belle opened her lips to protest, to retort that she didn’t particularly care whether he’d told her to leave or not, but then she realised she’d just be rising to the bait again, and she had no intentions of doing that again. Her jaw tightened and she exhaled, trying to release that frustration but she at least avoided commenting, raising an eyebrow as she waited for him to answer his so called question. “You just love making deals, don’t you?’’ She retorted with a roll of her eyes, a hand falling to her hip once more. A breath left her as she pondered over it, trying to decide whether to answer him properly or dodge the question. Pride and Prejudice was hardly an exciting answer and it had her giving him a look, half amused.

“Would you believe it if I said Dracula?’’ 

With his lips twitching a little, he just tilted his head briefly, not about to deny that he enjoyed deals.“Not for a single second,” he replied, lips curved briefly. Dracula was such a laughable answer and he knew, without a doubt, that wasn’t the real one. Even without any advantage he had with hearing heart rate changes or anything else he could read in a person when they lied, there wasn’t a chance that a slayer would pick such a book as a favourite one. “The real answer.”

‘’Why are you so interested in my literary choices?’’ She pressed eagerly, wanting to know just why it was so important to him but she figured it wasn’t too dangerous to reveal her choices. ‘’Pride and Prejudice, if you must know.’’

“You can find out a lot about a person by their literary choice,” he replied simply, lips twitching briefly as she revealed her own choice. An interesting one. A romantic novel with antagonistic love interests. So she liked romance but she didn’t like it to be easy. A story where a woman was forging her own place in the world rather than what was expected of her, seemed fitting for her. You could tell much about someone’s personality simply through the book they considered closest to their heart. His personal choices were Frankenstein for the theme of loneliness and rejection, even by the one who created you, and King Lear for the simple truth that all are meant to suffer, even those underserving. Horror breeds horror, and even the innocent perish. 

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” He quirked the corner of his mouth up after he spoke, sharing with her that he too had read that novel, and was at least aware of it enough to be able to share a quote or two that he felt were interesting to share. Vanity certainly seemed important here; they were both playing, both projecting and both trying to seem like they were the one with the upper hand. Both were just as guilty as the other with vanity this evening.

Belle would admit he was right there. A book could tell you more about a person than they themselves could do, and she had to admit that he had asked quite the thoughtful question in that case. Instantly, she recognised what he was quoting and it had her holding back a laugh. She certainly could appreciate a man who could quote Jane Austen so flawlessly, but she didn’t approve of him using it against her, so she bit her lip to hide a smile. ‘’I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I think it’s time for me to go now.’’ Belle’s eyes were sparkling, looking amused even if she was trying not to show it. Instead she chose to counter with a pointed quote of her own.

“There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” A pause and curiosity for one final time this evening got the better of her. 

‘’This begs the question about your favourite novel, Mr Gold.’’ Belle questioned easily in return, watching him as Rumple shifted his stance. He stepped behind a larger gravestone, folding his arms in front of himself against the top of it. Nonchalant, trying to convey that he didn’t need to be over the top to have control here, to be the one that was ultimately going to get the last word tonight. Not too many people would feel so comfortable in a graveyard, with dead bodies and coffins galore, but he didn’t bat an eyelid and it didn’t bother her at this point either. She’d never really been squeamish, she’d always appreciate the unusual and the darkness but she’d never realised just how much it didn’t phase her until she’d entered this life and she’d been exposed to so many things that should have shocked her, but they didn’t. 

He was observing her, enjoying and amused by all of this whilst all so very carefully making sure to analyse everything about her. How she took her steps, how she carried herself. The movement of her body when she spoke, the movement when she didn’t. The way her expression changed, the beat of her heart; he was burning the image of her to his mind, burning her quirks and behaviours all to memory.

“Dracula. Seems to be the novel of choice,” he quipped, lips curved into a knowing smile. However he did opt to give her one answer of honesty; though he would not share King Lear with her, aware that his ‘widowed man on revenge course’ may not quite fit that narrative simply because it was all a little too morbid, he would share Frankenstein with her. It would be easy to remember the answer with its accuracy, and consistent theme of loneliness; after all, wasn’t a man who lost his wife meant to feel that?

“Frankenstein. It’s a fascinating tale, don’t you think? I suppose that ah, as someone who spends his evenings hunting the undead, there’s a comfort to be found in horror based literary tales.“ His life was a horror story, his loneliness prominent. Not because of the loss of his wife - she’d had it coming and deserved her fate - but the loss of his son. It was something he carried with him every single day, and not an hour went by where he didn’t feel a pang of sorrow at not even knowing how his son’s story had ended.

It had her looking at him curiously as he spoke of his favourite book, unsure if he was being honest with her again. She couldn’t read him like she was used to being able to read people and it generally irritated her. But, before she could question further, Gold was shrugging his shoulders and lifting a hand from the gravestone as if shooing her away.

“Go, if you want. But ah, you still owe me a thank you.” He smirked slightly, sure that she had no intention of giving him what he wanted. Especially now he had thoroughly irritated her over the last hour. 

Which she proved right with a snort. “You’re going to be waiting a while, I think,’‘ Belle added dryly, glancing across at him with a little smirk on her lips. If anything, it was more amusing to make him wait for his thank you, especially since she had no intention of giving it to him. Perhaps she should have done and she knew that deep down but he was so infuriating that she couldn’t help herself, and she felt like thanking him would only give him more fuel for the fire. It would be admitting that she’d needed help at that moment and there was absolutely no way that was happening, not on her watch. He was smug enough as it is and he didn’t need that as ammunition as well. As far as she was concerned, he’d simply turned up, charged in and stopped her from taking down the vampire herself. Because she definitely would have managed it somehow, thank you very much. 

“I’m going because I want to, by the way,” she added, taking a moment before she was turning on her heel and huffing, making her exit from him and the graveyard. Now, to work out just who this ‘Mr Gold’ was, and what his true intentions were. Just as he intended to do about her.


End file.
